A/N: I absolutely wanted to murder myself for taking so long to update. It's not that I was toooooooo busy, but I realized something: this is an "angsty" story, but all of a sudden, I've taken a freakish road. I'm wearing black, but my head is filled with bubbles and butterflies and pink and happiness. Bubbles, for G-d's sake:twitch: So this story might take a turn for the better (for Draco and Harry). Since I haven't updated in like ever, I suggest you re-read the last chapter or so. Even I am going to... :cries:
Disclaimer: Just that. A disclaimer. I claim nothing. I own nothing.
Harry POV
We spent that time out by the lake joking about school stuff, filling ourselves with sugary beans, and often disagreeing with each other and spending minutes in silence before Draco would extend his pale hand, asking for a bean—while at the same time, silently asking for a truce.
It was one of the most pleasant times of my week. I had never known Draco to be so pleasant, even with his own house—for that matter, I was surprised any Malfoy could be so amusing. The way we talked, and sat in close proximity, but not too close, it was the same sort of timid flirting I had done with Cho a few years ago. It was exhilarating.
In the back of my mind, I couldn't forget how Hermione and Ron were still at each other's throats, and how the NEWTS were looking quite intimidating. But I let Draco's chatter drift through my brain and those thoughts miraculously got pushed back to the less noticeable depths of my mind, to be thought about later.
3rd Person"No, no, really! Why don't we ever have food fights?" Harry mused cheerfully, while popping a bean into his mouth.
"It's because you bloody Gryffindors act too high and mighty and perfect to go around and have a food fight! So don't complain to ME 'cause you're bored!" Draco responded cheekily, simultaneously grabbing the last Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean.
"Didn't someone start a food fight a while ago? Like, last year or so? And wasn't it the Ravenclaws who said 'stop it'?" Harry said, still in shock at the ease of talking to Draco.
"Yeah...David Markeez...he's a 5th or 6th year Slytherin—a real troublemaker. We look almost exactly alike, so I served two weeks' detention with Filch because I couldn't persuade anyone that it was HIM that threw a glob of mashed potatoes at a first-year's head." Draco said sullenly.
"Wait, you said he looks just like you? And a real troublemaker?" Harry asked urgently, carelessly tossing the vacant bag to the ground.
"Yeah..." Draco replied, picking it up and raising an eyebrow before placing it by Harry's bag. (A/N: he's such an environmentalist)
"Hmm...was he at all violent?" Harry asked, his green eyes twinkling with anticipation.
"As a matter of fact yes. He even tried giving ME a black eye." Draco chuckled fondly at the memory, "He ended up with one hell of a bloodied-up face."
"So you're saying...do you mean... whenever Hermione was beaten up by the Slytherin with white-blonde hair...it really wasn't you?" Harry asked. He felt that even after all of the other stuff that Draco did, if he hadn't really physically hurt Hermione, there could be something like a relationship in this for Draco and him, and he wouldn't feel as guilty.
"You thick-headed git! Of course it wasn't me!" Draco said, shoving Harry roughly, but not really standing up.
Harry smiled sheepishly at him, but then his grin turned into a very sly, flirtatious sort of simper. He shifted closer to Draco, who did not move back.
"What are you so happy about?" Draco inquired quietly, almost in a whisper, not wanting to break the sort of "wandless" magic being created.
"Oh, it's just you look..." Harry started, "ravishing," he finished enticingly, then planted his warm lips onto Draco's.
Draco reacted immediately, pulling Harry towards him then behind a nearby rock; just in case someone happened to glance out his or her window.
They held each other close while their tongues entwined. Each of them had wanted this so badly that they could not suppress the mutual moan that escaped their lips.
All good things must come to and end, and so did this satisfying kiss. Only this time, there was no oddness afterwards.
Draco stared into Harry's famous green eyes—Lily's eyes, he knew—and knew why every girl could not stop raving about them. He felt as though he could just fall into them. He wasn't sure whether it was creepy, cute, or romantic.
Draco's marvelous storm cloud gray eyes, in turn, entranced Harry. Even when they had that glazed look of lust and desire in them, they had this fierce, defiant quality about them that kept Harry's attention focused on them.
"Hey Harry-" Draco began.
"Yes?" Harry replied.
"I get off on your eyes." Draco girded.
Harry barely had time to say "thanks" before Draco gave in to the temptation of kissing him again.
Harry pushed Draco up against the boulder they were hiding behind, but after stopping the kiss merely fiddled with his robes. Draco held on to him.
"Well," Draco declared, lightly pushing Harry off him, "time to go."
"Yup, I guess so. And Draco?" Harry mumbled.
"Mm?" Draco said as they both started to jog back to the castle.
"You're gonna have to confide in me one day. Tell me what happened." Harry gushed, as he ran ahead into the building, leaving a slower Draco Malfoy to brood on this statement.
Draco POVConfide in him? Tell him what happened? What does he mean? ...about the time in the bathroom, when he found me? When we were supposed to be in detention? I said to myself pensively while I mindlessly copied notes from Professor Binns' blackboard.
This is the last class of the day, thank God. Harry had said that to me when? Lunch? I can't get it off my mind. I wrote down what the professor assigned for homework, then raced out of the room. I was eager to get back to my room, to see if I could gather anyone to walk with the kitchens to grab some food. Spending time with Harry, while most enjoyable, was proving to be more than my stomach could take. Bits of junk food really weren't going to fill my stomach.
He's probably hungry, too. Knowing those old Weasley accomplices of his, he'll probably know how to get into the kitchen as well. I pondered, as my legs ushered me up the stairs."Damn!" I shouted, as the staircase detached itself from the Slytherin Hallway and lowered itself to the third floor.
I got off on the floor, not knowing when the next staircase-shifting would be, and attempted to find my way around.
Never having to sneak around the school, I was almost completely ignorant in the many secret passageways and shortcuts—other than the secret of how to get to the kitchens, which was almost common knowledge, so for an entire hour I meandered through the halls, getting lost numerous times and not really knowing where I was heading.
I finally found my way back to the sanctuary of the Slytherin Common Room. I sighed heavily, thoroughly exhausted.
Pansy positively shrieked when I sat down on the closest free chair, and was on top of me in a heartbeat, her lanky arms draped around my stiff neck.
"Oooh Drakey, where were you all day! I barely saw you in class, and...and...you just ignored me!" I could see she was next to tears, and it made me uncomfortable, confused, and mostly annoyed. Why is she so EMOTIONAL! One shag, one day...I barely pay attention to her anyway. (A/N: hey that rhymed!)
I shrugged and looked away, and just let her sit on me. My arms remained on the armrests, unresponsive to her being on my lap, so she made them wrap around her waist and tried to snuggle up to me.
"Hey Pansy, I'm pretty hungry. How about we try to go out and find some food early, before dinner?" I used as an excuse. She took it entirely wrong.
She grinned playfully, "Why of course! It'll be a date! We'll be all alone in the Great Hall, eating chocolate cake with cherries and ice cream and...Okay, I'm going to get ready and I'll be right back!" She said excitedly, pecking my cheek, and running off to her room. Jumping off of me proved to show me that she didn't know to get off of someone without crushing their rib cages.
Once she was out of earshot, I shook my fists at the sky and grumbled incoherently. Blaise slunk over to me and asked, "Why do you let her do that? Why don't you just say 'Hey Pansy, you're a right-out slut, I hate everything about you, so just let someone else finger you.'?"
"It's not that easy. And she's so dependent. I feel sorry for her." I revealed. "Plus, she's a good distraction." I added with a weak smile and a wink.
Pansy flew down the staircase in a completely different outfit and I took a calming breath before extending my hand. Blaise shrugged and went back to copying someone's Transfiguration essay.
The kitchens were, as always, filled with the most obedient house elves, though Dobby refused to be in the same room as me. Too bad—I almost felt bad for the way my father treated him. But at the same time, I wanted to wretch, seeing so many house elves. It reminded me of the first time with my mother...
I had told Pansy to wait outside, saying it would be less romantic if she had to come in with me.
I didn't want to have to carry anything out, or spend too much time with the house elves, so I just ordered them to deliver some desserts to the Slytherin Table and—for good measure—finished with "if it's not too much trouble". Which I knew it wouldn't be.
The meal itself wasn't horrible. Pansy was too preoccupied with food and gabbing to touch me, and I myself devoured the food. The house elves had given my "lady friend" and I countless hors devours, an entire carrot cake, Bertie's Every Flavor Ice Cream, (I was not exactly sure how it worked), and lots of other goodies. Yes, it was a good meal.
As soon as we finished, I told her that we needed to get done with our homework. This was school, after all. She whined and such, but eventually she accepted it.
That evening, during the actual dinner, I received a letter and a scroll from the business that had delivered the dream catcher to me. I stashed a bunch of peanuts in my pocket and went up to my room to read the note.
Dear Mr. Malfoy,
I presume that the dream catcher you ordered has been working perfectly. It is designed to discover the brain waves that are causing your nightmares; single them out, extract the actual nightmare, and store it in the mini-pensieve that conveniently resembles a bead. So you sleep well, no? If not, please return this letter explaining what defects have occurred.
My secretary recently told me that Package #307, that would be yours, did not come in with the full set of directions. These directions tell you how you can view the dreams that are stored in the bead-like cavity.
We here at the company are sorry for the misunderstanding, and beg your pardon. Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Benjamin Pallaton PresidentI re-folded the letter. Very unusual for the owner of a shady business to give out his name in something that could possibly be intercepted.
However, I was in no mood to be paranoid. I had had no idea that the dream catcher would be able to replay those dreams. I didn't want it to. Not at all.
What if one of my roommates started teasing me about having a dream catcher, like it was something immature, then investigated it and discovered all of those wretched things.
I grabbed the second scroll, the one with the instructions. I was tempted to just shred it, burn the pieces and put the ash into the lake, but I decided against it.
You don't always need instructions to make something work. Any number of genius students could figure it out...
And perhaps there's a way to shut off that function, I thought hopefully.
"Ba-da-bum-bum...ba-da-bum-bum..." I hummed the tune to my cousin Lyra Malfoy's song "Ask Grandma Maggie". She had made it when she was sixteen, and it was popular. But she was dead. My father's drunken hand combined with a hammer made sure of that.
However, I liked the tune and I had been very fond of her, so I mumbled it as I skimmed through the complicated scroll, looking for headlines that would instruct me on how to rid my dream catcher of the ability to reveal my secrets.
"You know I hate that song." Came the cold voice of the notorious Lucius Malfoy. I turned around.
I resented not doing my original plan—to burn the papers—and so shoved the scroll under my desk, as my dad chuckled humorlessly, closing his eyes and taking out his torture-fashioned belt. Whip, really. What's the difference?
"You've been a very naughty boy, son. Very bad deeds. Tsk Tsk..." Lucius mocked me. He brought the belt down with the strength he accumulated from running heinous acts for Voldemort.
I tried not to scream; I really did. But he just kept getting stronger every time I saw him...or I kept getting weaker...
I looked down at my right arm where he had thrashed me, and was distressed to see my favorite shirt had a graze the size of a walnut. I was to find out that if that single nick bothered me, I was going to be utterly depressed later on.
And so, for an entire half-hour, I watched my father pull back, whip, pull back, whip, pull back...and watched myself bleed, bleed, and bleed, ceaselessly.
He stopped, thank god, he stopped. This time, he put his head back and gave a belly laugh. Full of humor. I was seething.
He exited the room, still sniggering, and I wondered briefly how he managed to get in and out of here. But when the shock wore off and my sliced skin reached its full pain potential, I gave a small moan and set off towards the bathroom, to fix myself up.
Yes, I was depressed. I didn't bother to even bring Drakstile; why cut yourself when you're already bloodied up. It ruins the calming effect, really.
A/N: Okay, I SWEAR I won't take as long to update! I sort of have the next chapter in mind...Okay, I don't swear, but I'll really try! Please review, it makes me feel good. And sorry I didn't reply to the reviews in this one, it's just been so long...too rushed to get this up to go through them.